For the longest time I’ve wanted to do a book celebrating Loving Day. For me it isn’t just a celebration of the Lovings and their triumph against narrow minds and barriers meant to continue keeping people separate but a victory for love, for looking beyond what would hold us back or keep us apart and instead bring us closer together as a people through the beautiful, simple emotion of love.

With this story I wanted a hero who accepted the heroine even though she didn’t let him into all aspects of her life, didn’t tell him everything and yet he still wanted her—all of her. I also wanted a complicated heroine who had to learn via his love for her to accept the parts of her that she couldn’t accept herself, that she felt shame and guilt about. They both had their issues but the one thing that couldn’t be denied for them was love.

On a more personal note (inspired by my friend Amie Stuart), as a biracial child, growing up, I always felt other. People would ask to touch, play with or do my hair. They’d ask me the lovely question, “What are you?”. As a kid I didn’t really get how loaded that question was. Not, “Who are you?” but what. I struggled to find my place in the world for the longest time and it wasn’t until an episode of the anime Inuyasha –hey inspiration and epiphanies can come from anywhere—that I finally figured out that I didn’t need to belong to one side or the other, I could just be me, whoever that was.

In the episode he had to confront his half-demon, half-human status and was asked how he handled that and he said, “Not really a demon; not really human. I’m not either. That’s all. There was no place for me, so I had find one myself. And then I realized. I had a place, but I was the only one in it. I didn’t know any other way to live.” (Found on the InuYasha Wikiquote page).

I am the product of an interracial union. I love seeing interracial couples. People that look beyond ethnic backgrounds and find love despite what others may think. It matters so much to me, it’s one of the reasons why I write IR books and why I felt compelled to put together this collection. To celebrate love. I hope you enjoy the stories we have to offer you.

Blurb:
Take one stubborn and sexy cowboy, add in a voluptuous beauty, mix in emotions, and stir.

Vanessa and Tyler have been friends with benefits for a year. While he’s fallen in love with her, she’s tried to keep her distance. Convinced by her parents that she’s a failure in everything from relationships to jobs, she’s come to believe that she isn’t worthy of love.

Tyler fell for Vanessa from day one when she came to him for a job. He’s accepted her distances and a friends with benefits relationship, while keeping his feelings to himself. Well, not to himself, he had to tell his family right? When his aunt blurts out the dirty details, he has to deal with the fallout.

Can Nessa move beyond her past and what she thought she deserved? Will he take her back despite the hurt she’s caused him?

Warning:
This Swirl Romance contains, sex toys, voyeurism, a sexy cowboy who can’t keep his hands to himself, a curvaceous, plus-sized bartender and a big mouthed aunt.
Available at Amazon

Seraphena, a black panther shifter and familiar, hasn’t had a night off in months. Between work, dealing with her mother, and issues with her leap, her life is one challenge after the next. So when she finally finds herself with a night to herself, the last thing she expects is spending it with her secret crushes, Carver and Thorn, demons and owners of her favorite café, The Java Demon. Neither does she expect what happens when you play high card strip with a couple of pros. They give her a hot game, a night to remember with a little kink on the side. But Sera knows it can’t last with all the complications in her life. The last thing she needs is having to explain two men at once—and demons at that.

Carver and Thorn have wanted Sera from the moment she first strolled into the Java Demon for her caffeine fix. Now that they have her in their life, they refuse to let her go. They will bind her to them in every way they can, fulfill her fantasies, and show her the love and support she needs. Nothing will stand in their way—not work, not her mother, not her pard. But it might be Sera herself who shuts them out if she can’t stand up to those who would dictate their love…

“And if you’re a really good girl—and I mean a good girl—I’ll ask my best friend to join us. Him in your ass and me in your pussy.” Carver pressed his palm against her stomach and slipped it down until he covered her mound. “You want to be our good girl, don’t you?”

She nodded, unsure of what it would take to be that, but knowing that whatever it was she’d do it. He smiled and it felt as though the sun had come out. Heat radiated from his lips. She reached up to cup his face and bring him closer for a kiss, but he lifted his head.

“Tsk, tsk, not yet. I’m not finished.” He rolled his hips, rubbing his erection into her. The noises she made turned to moans. “Feel that? Every inch for you, used to pleasure you, fuck you, make you moan and scream and beg and cry out, to own you. I’ll sink into you over and over again, make you come so hard you’ll see stars. I’ll use toys, my fingers, my mouth, my tongue, my lips, my cock to worship you as you deserve. My beautiful one, I will never do to you what that bastard, Arthur, did to you.”

Sera jerked back. The fantasy faded away at the mention of her ex. How could he? She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know about Arthur? Only Mysta, Bridget, and Lana know what happened with him.”

Carver shrugged. “Word does get around, even if you don’t open that pretty mouth of yours. Besides, the asshole told anyone who would hear at the Harvest Festival about leaving you. But don’t worry, Thorn and I put him in his place.” A hard look entered Carver’s eyes, a darkness that glittered in the inky black of his irises. He gave her a dark smile.

Her nipples pebbled to the point of pain and she shivered. The arousal stirred to life. “Why would you do that for me? Whatever it is you did.”

Carver bent his head down. “Because I will fight to have you and shed blood to keep you safe and keep your heart secure. You are worth it. You are priceless. Do not doubt that.”

He cut off any response by lowering his head and pressing his lips to hers. Her mind became swathed in desire, and her body temperature rose once again. She was in so deep she wasn’t sure she wanted to escape.

The only thing worse than the annual office Christmas party is attending the stinkin’ thing alone. Refusing to consign herself to that fate yet again,
Marissa Wagner throws her normally sensible self aside and does what any newly adventurous—okay, desperate—woman in her shoes would do—she hires a male
escort. But when he arrives for their pre-party introduction her situation goes from problem solved, to one holy whopper of a complication. Her paid-for
dream man…is also her best friend’s brother.

Trig Campbell has been in the escorting biz long enough to realize there’s a risk of being set up with someone he knows. Never in a million years did he
count on that person being Marissa. Out of all of Jane’s friends, Rissa’s always been the less wild of the bunch. Now that fate’s in his corner, he’s more
than game to help her explore her bad girl side and play out every kinky fantasy they can. Getting past her doubts is no easy feat. Fortunately he knows a
thing or two about cranking up the carnal heat, and soon he and Marissa embark on a week-long intensely erotic journey that leaves them both shaken and
craving more.

As their time together draws closer to an end, Trig is haunted by a question he’d never expected to face. What possible future can a gigolo offer a woman
like Marissa? And can he let her go when the time comes?

Warning: This book contains a player well-versed in the fine art of sin, a good girl who’s about to find out how delicious it is to be bad, enough kinky
uses for a candy cane to make an elf blush, and verifiable proof that Santa does indeed come more than once a year.

He gently chaffed her hand between his. “Rissa, it’s okay. This isn’t much different than a blind date. Only we have the benefit of already knowing each
other. That’s kind of a good thing, don’t you think?”

“Uh, no.”

“Why?”

She gaped at him like he’d suddenly sprouted an extra head. “Because you’re Jane’s brother. And you’re younger than me.” She darted a look toward the
nearest table before leaning closer to him and dropping her voice to a whisper. “Also I freakin’ paid for you.”

All three of her concerns were expected and no simple barricade to bust through. Best to start with the lowest on the calamity scale. “You’re what, five
years older than me, tops? Don’t think that even qualifies you as a cougar.”

She grimaced. “Oh God, you would have to use that word.”

“I happen to think older women are hella sexy.”

She offered him a peevish look that was downright adorable. “You just said I’m not that much older than you.”

He shrugged. “I’ll make an exception for you.”

That finally earned a ghost of a smile from her. Just as quickly as it appeared, the mesmerizing sight vanished and she frowned, her eyes widening slightly
behind her tortoise frame glasses. “You aren’t suggesting we go through with this!”

“Why not? According to the information I was given, you need a date for your Christmas party, and I’m available. I don’t see any problem with this
scenario.”

She dropped her focus to their linked fingers. Despite her effort to hide her face he still made out the fierce blush creeping across her cheeks. She
cleared her throat. “Trig, I—I just don’t think this is going to work out.”

“If you’re worried what Jane will think, trust me, I have no plan to tell her about any of this.”

She returned her stare to him. “Does she know what you do for a living?”

He grunted. “No. That info would go over like a bag of bricks with my sis. She has a hard enough time with my other side job.”

Her brow furrowed. “Other side job?”

So apparently Jane hadn’t spilled the beans to any of her friends. Or at least not to Marissa. Not that he was necessarily surprised, given how his sis
viewed his decision to put off going back to school to get his MFA. Not much he could do about that until he got a decent chunk taken out of his already
sky-high student loan.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. This was another conversation he’d never anticipated occurring. Might as well get it all out in the open though. Shit, if
the escort thing hadn’t scared her off by now his other gig likely wouldn’t be the final straw breaking the camel’s back. He hoped. “I dance for an
all-male revue.”

She double blinked. “You’re a stripper?”

“Not full time, but…yeah.”

“Huh. No wonder you’re in such amazing shape.” Her scrutiny drifted to his chest before quickly flicking back upward to his chin as if she were deeply
mortified at getting caught red-handed checking him out. Considering the amount of women who visually molested him on a daily basis—even with his clothes
on—her reaction was adorably goofy.

He bit back a grin. “I’m glad you noticed.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can stop pretending that you don’t know your body is the Eighth freakin’ Wonder of the World.”

He chuckled. “Not that I don’t appreciate the flattery—especially coming from you—but that’s a pretty hefty claim to make without seeing all I have to
offer.”

Her eyes widened again. Oh yeah. She’d definitely picked up on the underlying invitation he’d snuck in there. He deliberately dropped his gaze to her
mouth. “If you want a demonstration before actually buying the goods—”

“Trig.” Her coloring rivaled the hat she’d tucked in her lap.

His face physically hurt from grinning so hard. “I was only going to suggest that you should come watch me at Sinners Friday night.”

“Oh.” She shifted restlessly in her seat. “I’m having dinner with my mom that night.”

It was a good bet that was a lie, judging from the way she stumbled over her words and immediately averted her gaze. “Then I guess you’ll have to take me
sight unseen.” He brushed his thumb along the outside of hers. “Unless you’d prefer a private dance back at your place.”

She squirmed on the bench again. “Is that something you regularly offer your clients?”

“No, though sometimes they ask. Most of the women aren’t looking for anything sexual, believe it or not.”

“H—have you ever slept with any of them?” A rosy flush crawled upward along her neck. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s really none of
my business.”

“No, you deserve to know, and I don’t mind disclosing the information.” He took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was
scare Marissa off, but he also believed in being one hundred percent honest when it came to his sexual history. “I’ve never accepted money to have sex with
a woman. What they pay me is strictly for what’s on the agreement form. But a couple of times there have been mutual attractions that led to stuff
happening after I got off the clock.”

He continued tracing her finger, following the curve down to the base of her thumb. He’d never found the simple act of holding a woman’s hand to be this
intimate and erotic. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have the same response if it wasn’t Marissa. Which just went to show the effect she had on him. How
fucking mind blowing would it be having his cock buried deep inside her, feeling her hot and liquid around him while her nails raked his back? He lifted
her hand and bit the tip of her finger, scraping it lightly with his teeth.

Her lips parted on a breathy exhale. The sound wrapped around his cock and squeezed. He released her finger but kept caressing her hand. “Invite me back to
your place, Rissa.”

Yes, he was pushing her. Hard and fast. It might very well backfire on him and she’d run out of the shop in the next two seconds. But he’d never been one
to back away from going after what he wanted. And what he wanted was Marissa—naked, gasping, and coming her brains out underneath him.

Excerpt #2:

Jane herded them to the escalator and they rode it to the second floor where they braved the cosmetic counter ladies and their arsenal of noxious perfume
spritzes.

Doing her best to contain her coughs, Marissa ducked into the women’s evening wear section and bee-lined for the sales rack. She spotted a zebra-print
number that resembled a bandage rather than something a sane woman should be seen wearing in public. Quickly hiding the ensemble behind an oversized
sweater before Jane could pounce on it, Marissa continued appraising her choices. A respectably understated emerald green velvet sheath caught her eye and
she freed it from its place of honor between a pair of leather skinny jeans and a powder blue cashmere cardigan.

Situating the dress against her front, she pivoted sideways. “What do you think of this?”

“Simple and sexy. I like it.”

She jerked her head up and gaped at Trig’s grinning mug. Before she could get her mouth to function she was interrupted by Jane’s perfectly timed
appearance. Spearing her brother with a fierce look, Jane sidled next to Marissa. “What? Your bromance already on the rocks? Guess you shouldn’t have kept
him waiting while consorting with us peons.”

“No, Jack texted me that he had an emergency pop up.” Trig propped his elbow on top of the clothes rack and flashed a smile that made Marissa squirm.
“Looks like I’m all yours.”

“Lucky us.” Snorting, Jane turned her attention to the dress Marissa was clutching. She clucked her tongue. “Not enough cleavage. Or leg.”

“You’re not dressing me like a hoochie mama.”

Her expression pained, Jane glanced at Trig. “On second thought, you might come in useful. Clearly I need all the help I can convincing Polly the Prude
here to wear something that wasn’t designed for Bingo Night at the convalescent home.”

Marissa rolled her eyes.

“Occasion?” Trig inquired. Judging from the wicked twinkle in his irises he knew damn well what the dress was for.

“My office work party,” she gritted between her teeth.

“The game plan is to get her laid while she’s there.”

Marissa was torn between the desire to throttle Jane for that comment or crawl into the security of the nearest clothes rack to hide. That last option
sounded like the wiser choice when Trig’s mouth tipped upward at one corner.

“Oh yeah?”

Marissa shook her head adamantly. “Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Bullshit.” Jane flicked her wrist. “Everyone knows office parties are for faxing photo copies of your ass to your ex and/or freaky sex with that
questionable guy from the mailroom. Preferably you’ll kill two birds with one stone by getting it on atop of said copier.”

“I really worry about you sometimes.” Marissa risked another peek in Trig’s direction. He was still eyeing her with blazing interest. Fairly certain he was
mentally calculating the proper alignment required for Xeroxing her naked fanny, she hugged the dress tighter to her chest and inched toward the fitting
rooms. “I’m going to, uh, try this on.”

Jane grumbled under her breath and stalked to a display of designer evening gowns on the opposite side of the walkway. Her credit card already cringing in
anticipation of what her friend would attempt to foist on her, Marissa scooted around Trig. He surprised her by falling in step next to her, and she slid
him a questioning glance.

“Thought you might require some assistance getting out of your bra.” Crooking his arm around her shoulder, he flashed his teeth in a wolfish grin.

She smothered a laugh. “I’m sure you have plenty of experience in that department, but fortunately mine unhooks in the front.” Oh Lord, why did she tell
him that? Discussing her undergarments sure as hell didn’t help her situation.

“I’d never live with myself if you broke a nail fiddling with the hook.”

“Your concern for my manicure is touching. Truly.”

“Oh, there will be plenty of touching involved. Most likely some licking and sucking too.”

Her nipples tightened at his teasing promise. She really shouldn’t be enjoying this flirty seduction as much as she was. Clearing her throat, she gave a
pointed look to the arm he’d draped around her.

Sighing in exaggerated dejection, he dropped his arm. “You know where to find me when that stubborn clasp gives you problems.”

She stepped forward—and killed her squeak when he delivered a light smack to her ass. Flustered, she slashed a look over her shoulder to ensure that Jane
hadn’t caught the gesture. Her best friend was still absorbed with the task of scrutinizing the overpriced dresses in the adjacent department. Gusting a
relieved breath, Marissa pointed her finger at Trig. “Stop being so naughty.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Excerpt #3:

Trig positioned himself on his mark behind the curtain. Frank signaled the DJ and gave Trig a thumbs-up before shuffling out of sight.

“Ladies,” the DJ’s voice boombed through the speakers. “How many good girls do we have in the house tonight?”

A smattering of catcalls echoed beyond the curtain.

“Dirty liars.” The DJ’s retort was met with raucous laughter from the crowd. “All right, now let’s hear it from all the bad girls out there.”

The entire club damn near shook under the exuberant “Woohoo’s” and “Hell yeahs” from the women.

“That’s more like it. Fortunately for y’all, we’ve got a special guest who flew in all the way from the North Pole to tantalize you with his own pole.
Which one of you sexy bitches wants to sit on his lap and tell him about the big package you want stuffed in your stocking?”

More rowdiness erupted from the patrons.

“What’s that? I can’t hear you.”

The volume of the ladies’ shouts and all around insanity increased by a thousand fold as they vied with each other to be the one picked. The hoopla was all
for show and to get them worked up and their wallets loosened. The woman had already been chosen, thanks to James’s perpetual boner.

“He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake and fucking hornier than hell.” The improvised line triggered the loudest series of hollers
yet. “He knows when you’ve been bad or good. So you better be baaaaad, for goodness sake. Because we have the one…the only…Kinky Claus in the house!”

The velvet drapes lifted with a dramatic swoosh and the deafening cheers of the crowd nearly drowned out the opening bars to Santa Claus Needs Some Lovin’.
Their excitement energized him, filling him with the heady rush he always experienced when he was in performance mode. In that moment, he was Kinky Claus.

Strutting to the center of the stage, he worked the ladies, teasing them with dirty hip rolls and promised flashes of skin he didn’t completely deliver on.
The women ate it up, and several of the more rambunctious ones up front shook their tatas in encouragement. He’d been in plenty of strip clubs throughout
his life, both as a performer and an occasional patron. He had to admit that women were hella more wild and crazy than his male counterparts.

From the corner of his eye he spotted Frank approaching one of the tables. Damn. He’d completely forgotten to check out Miss Five ahead of time. Not often
he got the opportunity to do that before the female was hauled up onto the stage.

“Looks like we have our lucky lady.” The DJ’s announcement drifted over the cacophony of music and boisterous female chants of, “Kinky Claus! Kinky Claus!
Kinky Claus!”

Taking that as his cue, Trig pivoted and claimed the chair set up to the left of him. In other routines he typically started off with the female seated,
but this particular act initially called for a bit of role reversal. He glanced toward the stairs leading up to the stage, fully expecting to see Frank
with the woman in tow. Nada.

Frowning, Trig peered toward the table to determine the holdup. Frank’s burly frame blocked most of the view, but from what Trig could detect, Frank was
dealing with some reluctance from Miss Five. Occasionally they got a shy one. Not often, but it did happen. Usually everything worked out fine once they
got up here and Trig put them at ease. Hell, half the time they ended up not wanting to leave the stage. It was always the quiet ones who surprised him the
most and he had the best fun with.

The other women at Five joined in Frank’s efforts to coax their tablemate into abandoning her seat. Their encouragement must have done the trick, because
Frank suddenly stepped aside with a pleased grin. That’s when Trig had his first unobstructed view of his soon-to-be lap partner. He stared at Marissa,
shock punching him dead center in the solar plexus. Damn good thing he was sitting down, otherwise he’d be flat on the floor.

What the hell was she doing here?

Duh, you invited her, moron. Never in a million years would he have thought she’d take him up on it. Not after the way they ended things last night.

Shit. How was he going to get through this routine? All of the full-on body contact and suggestive grinding.

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Gabrielle Scott is fed up with helping her playboy boss seduce and woo his countless bimbettes courtesy of her culinary masterpieces. Yeah, the pay is
good, and you can’t beat the luxurious digs she’s treated to as his resident personal chef. But she can’t afford the frustration of living under the same
roof with the one man who drives her crazy in every possible way. The damnable truth? She’s in love with the irredeemable bastard, and the only way she’ll
get over him is to get naked under him. The plan? Attend Jax’s annual Mardi Gras ball incognito and entice him into a hot night of sin—right before handing
in her resignation.

Jaxon Noble always gets what he wants. Especially when it comes to the opposite sex. So when Gabbi shows up at his party in an eye-popping costume and
outrageously flirts with him it’s a foregone conclusion that she’ll finally be his. About damn time the stubborn woman came to her senses. He’s more than
happy to go along with her game, and the combustible heat they generate together proves it was well worth the wait to have her. But when morning comes and
Gabrielle calmly announces she’s quitting, Jax is faced with the sobering fact that perhaps money can’t buy everything. Or more to the point—the only
person who’s ever meant anything to him.

For someone who’s used to winning at all costs, losing Gabbi isn’t an option. And Jax will pull out every sweet and sexy trick to convince her to take a
chance on a forever with him. Even if it means handcuffing her to his bed.

Warning: This book contains a sassy chef, one determined bad boy billionaire, Fur-lined handcuffs and inappropriate consumption of beignets, several sinful
drizzles of honey, and enough sizzling chemistry to set off the smoke alarms.

“Kelly,” he murmured. Brandon paused, azure depths darkened to the color of sapphires. His tongue flicked out to trace the seam of her lips. She opened up for him without a single complaint, her own tongue slipping out to meeting his. With a groan, he kissed her, exploring her mouth. The taste of deep, rich whisky washed over her taste buds, making her yearn for more. It was warm and sweet, with undertones of cinnamon and something more.

He pulled her head back, allowing him to deepen the contact. She moaned and arched her chest. One of his fingers blazed a path along her jaw and down her throat to trace along her neckline.

She wished she was naked, her flesh exposed to his touch. Needing to do more than just sit and let him take what he wanted, she lifted her arms and sunk one hand into his hair, gripping it tight to hold him where he was. With her other hand, she unbuttoned his shirt slowly until she could part the panels and touch him in a way she’d only dreamed about. His skin was feverish. With each flex of his muscles, his chest rippled. Maybe it was the whiskey or her exhaustion, but she couldn’t find a single reason not to be kissing him right now. In fact, all thought had evaporated.

The roughened tip of his finger teased her, dipping into the valley of her cleavage and withdrawing, before blazing a path of fire along the bottom edge of her sweater. Each pass made her top feel tighter, her breasts seem fuller, as if the simple wool fabric couldn’t hold back their bounty. He hooked his index finger into the dip and tugged. The threaded hem scraped against her chest, sending a ripple of sensation around her torso. She whimpered and arched her back, urging him on without words to tear, take, cup, squeeze.

He didn’t do any of those things. Brandon removed his hand and coasted down over her breast in a light tease before slipping down her side and behind her. She felt the cloth pull away from her torso before it was lifted up. With a sigh of relief she raised her arms over her head. He let go of her ponytail, yanked off her sweater, and dropped it to the floor.

She scooted back, allowing him to look his fill at her bare breasts. Under his scrutiny, her nipples pebbled and goose flesh rose on her arms and across her chest. She watched emotions flit across his face: desire, awe, happiness, acceptance, relief. Each of those sentiments was echoed within her. She wanted to reach out, cup his face, and kiss him. There was no way to say this was the alcohol talking. The buzz of the whiskey had faded away to nothing.

“Put your hands behind your back.” His voice was ragged and torn like a voice caught by the storm and distorted. He reached for his belt.

She didn’t ask what he intended to do. All she knew was that she wanted whatever it was he offered her.